Happy birthday out_there
Whee, by the time I hit post, it'll be Monday in Melbourne so I can shout out:
Happy Birthday Annie!
800 x 600
Now Annie, cast your mind back a year ago. Remember you asked me to write you some Sam/Josh? And I said no way, because I don't write West Wing fiction! Well, here, finally, is a little snippet (heavily inspired by Ryan Adams' Hallelujah). It's set vaguely near the beginning of season 5, but there's nothing spoilery.
The Real Thing
Sam looks at the face beside him, slack and soft in sleep, but still pretty. Pretty and smart and all the things he should be looking for. But she's still a stranger, a stranger who looks back at him in the morning from what she already considers her side of the bed, smiling a gleaming white toothpaste scented smile as she brushes out her long Californian-blonde hair. A stranger who he's not really tried to get to know in the two months they've dated.
Part of him wishes they'd gone back to her place for once, so he could have crept away in the early hours, woken here alone. He wouldn't have done so, of course, but it would be easier if he were the sort of man who would.
He could walk out of his own apartment, of course. And he's tempted. But it's a long walk across the country, and he knows that if he just allows himself to believe, to think for one moment that it's possible, he'll be back in DC and this time he'd not be able to leave, wouldn't be strong or foolish or whatever it is he's being now.
He's looking for the simple love, but he doesn't know what it looks like, or if he'll even want it when (if) he finds it.
He knows what the real thing looks like though. It's grouchy and graying, irascible and irritating. The real thing doesn't look pretty in the morning, he looks crumpled and still tired. His early morning kisses taste stale, not spearmint, and his hair isn't silky to touch. He's difficult and impossible and he's the man Sam loves and simple is never going to work for him.
Sam looks at the face beside him, and prepares the words he's going to say. He wants to say hallelujah, and say that nothing but the real thing will do for him, he can't settle, can't give up whatever the odds. But he's a decent guy, so he thinks of gentle phrases, and when she wakes, he says all the right things, and means them.
*
Sam looks at the face beside him, slack and soft in sleep. Josh snores, gently, then the sound hitches as he wakes and opens one eye.
Sam smiles.
This is the real thing.
*
ETA: UK Harry Potter fans, there's a making of PoA programme being reshown on ITV1 at 3.40am tomorrow morning.
Happy Birthday Annie!
800 x 600
Now Annie, cast your mind back a year ago. Remember you asked me to write you some Sam/Josh? And I said no way, because I don't write West Wing fiction! Well, here, finally, is a little snippet (heavily inspired by Ryan Adams' Hallelujah). It's set vaguely near the beginning of season 5, but there's nothing spoilery.
The Real Thing
Sam looks at the face beside him, slack and soft in sleep, but still pretty. Pretty and smart and all the things he should be looking for. But she's still a stranger, a stranger who looks back at him in the morning from what she already considers her side of the bed, smiling a gleaming white toothpaste scented smile as she brushes out her long Californian-blonde hair. A stranger who he's not really tried to get to know in the two months they've dated.
Part of him wishes they'd gone back to her place for once, so he could have crept away in the early hours, woken here alone. He wouldn't have done so, of course, but it would be easier if he were the sort of man who would.
He could walk out of his own apartment, of course. And he's tempted. But it's a long walk across the country, and he knows that if he just allows himself to believe, to think for one moment that it's possible, he'll be back in DC and this time he'd not be able to leave, wouldn't be strong or foolish or whatever it is he's being now.
He's looking for the simple love, but he doesn't know what it looks like, or if he'll even want it when (if) he finds it.
He knows what the real thing looks like though. It's grouchy and graying, irascible and irritating. The real thing doesn't look pretty in the morning, he looks crumpled and still tired. His early morning kisses taste stale, not spearmint, and his hair isn't silky to touch. He's difficult and impossible and he's the man Sam loves and simple is never going to work for him.
Sam looks at the face beside him, and prepares the words he's going to say. He wants to say hallelujah, and say that nothing but the real thing will do for him, he can't settle, can't give up whatever the odds. But he's a decent guy, so he thinks of gentle phrases, and when she wakes, he says all the right things, and means them.
*
Sam looks at the face beside him, slack and soft in sleep. Josh snores, gently, then the sound hitches as he wakes and opens one eye.
Sam smiles.
This is the real thing.
*
ETA: UK Harry Potter fans, there's a making of PoA programme being reshown on ITV1 at 3.40am tomorrow morning.